Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Loudly heralded as the pyre upon which their former Britpop selves have been ritually dispatched, Blur certainly takes some getting used to, though it's questionable whether even familiarity saves it from being an underwhelming experience.
Supposedly reflecting the influence of American lo-fi types such as Pavement, the musical surface of the album is dirty and pitted, deliberately roughly finished compared to the user-friendly lustre of their previous records. The lyrics, meanwhile, are more personal and introspective than the surface observations of Parklife and The Great Escape, as Damon Albarn seeks to come to terms with the pyrrhic victory of celebrity.
It's not a pretty sound: "Beetlebum" is by far the most readily approachable song, and though its numb solipsism seems to shun overt interest, it at least carries the ghost of their former pop sensibility. Once it's out of the way, things fall apart badly, firstly in the form of "Song 2", a grunge wail whose very title encapsulates the group's current anti- pop stance, then the hoarse whisperings of "Country Sad Ballad Man", a token attempt at the country-slacker style of Palace and Smog that relies heavily on the sad twang of a jew's harp.
That's the problem with Blur: it all seems so token, from the hardcore thrash-bite of "Chinese Bombs" to the plodding noise-scape of "Essex Dogs". There's no consistency to the songs, which seem more readily definable by what they're not (chirpy mockney Britpop) than what they'd like to be (57 varieties of alternative rock).
The better tracks are those that, like "Beetlebum", play most directly to Albarn's new despondency: the trudging "Death of a Party" accurately evokes the suicidal emptiness of PR party life, and "Strange News From Another Star" is hauntingly contemplative. But for the most part, the sound of Albarn's voice struggling to be heard through the fog of disconsolate organ in "Theme From Retro" is more indicative of the tenor of the album.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments